Princess Ch. 07

Emma spent two weeks with us, and much of the time outside work hours was in bed with Marjorie, her sister, or me -- or all of us. I started to believe her when she described herself as a newly minted bisexual nymphomaniac. Jerry helped out on quite a few occasions too, and Doug went out of his way to attend to her too.

In March, a week after Emma returned, Doug came by for two nights while he spent the days at his Beltway client. The last night, he blew us away with his plans for the next two or three years, and maybe longer.

Doug said, "My consulting firm has asked me to relocate to London and help set up an office in the U.K. I have to help hire some local staff over there, and even find an office head, and then I'll be coming home to the U.S. They want me over there at least for two years, and possibly three or more."

Marjorie, Carrie, and I looked at each other and simultaneously said, 'Emma!'"

Doug had a comfortable relationship with Emma, although they didn't see each other all the time as only one or the other might be at our house. A few times they synced, and the two of them connected -- mind, body, and spirit.

Doug was so busy with work he still hadn't gotten a steady girlfriend. One of his old girlfriends had anointed him her 'fuck buddy,' and that took care of some of his physical needs when he was in California, but he'd told us he really liked Emma and even thought of her as a longer-term special girlfriend.

After our realization that Doug might be the solution to the 'Emma Problem,' Carrie laid out the situation with Emma to him during one of his visits.

Carrie said, "Emma wants a connection to all of us, and you can become that connection. You're being in England will mean she has somebody there all the time that provides her a link to us."

Doug looked skeptical, "But she wants sex with you."

I laughed, "So, you'll have to pick up the slack. I can't be in two places at the same time, besides I think Emma has a crush on you too. When she finds out you're going to be over in the U.K. she'll be over the moon. In fact, I bet you that she wants to move in with you."

"Emma? You mean the beautiful girl who describes herself as a bisexual nymphomaniac slut who is also oversexed, and who we double-teamed two weeks ago while she kept yelling faster -- harder - more?"

"Yep, that one," I chortled about his quoting her lurid description of herself.

"Let's see how it plays out. Next time I see her I'll let her know I'm going to be an ex-pat in her home country."

The next time turned out to be three weeks later.

Emma sat stone-faced as Doug told her about his overseas assignment. She slowly turned to me, and then Carrie, and then Marjorie. We were all looking at her to see what her reaction would be. Gradually, she broke into a huge grin, but she got choked up. She said, "This isn't a prank of some sort is it? I mean the four of you aren't having it on at my expense are you?"

I shook my head, "Nope, this is real."

Emma launched herself into Doug's arms, "Oh, this is the most wonderful news I've had since my sister married your brother."

Doug tentatively said, "I've got to get a flat, I was thinking in South Kensington."

"Oh, that's so tony. Yes, that'd be nice."

Doug timidly said, "I was kind of hoping that ... well, maybe that you'd stay with me once in a while?"

Emma pulled away from him. "You don't want me around all the time?"

Doug said softly, "Actually, I do, but I figured you'd have to be with your parents ... or be doing princess business ... or other stuff."

"NO. If you'll have me, I'll live with you all the time."

"What will your father say about that?"

"Father -- smather. He doesn't get to say anything. I'm twenty-six and run my own life. I will have to coordinate with my security. If you think you have freaks and stalkers in this country, you should try England." Emma paused, looked at each of us, and added, "Is that OK? I mean, my moving in with you full time?"

Doug smiled. "You'll make me very happy if you do that -- very very happy."

So a month later, Doug started spending time in the U.K. He and Emma did get a flat in South Kensington or SW3 part of London. Doug's new office was in Mayfair, a short bus ride or a couple of tube stops away from home. Emma's bodyguards were able to let the downstairs flat in the same building, so they weren't too intrusive on the pair.

Marjorie had a trip to California to do some interviews for a special she was hosting for NBS. Over the time she'd be gone, Carrie and I flew to London, and spent a week with Doug and Emma. Of course, we also saw her parents and stayed two nights in the royal palace. I was suitably impressed, but could also see how that way of life could be oppressive.

Of course, the tabloids picked up the visit and sensationalized the visit of Carrie and me to Doug and Emma; one headline read 'Brothers and Sisters: What goes on behind closed doors?'

Actually, a fair amount of fucking was going on behind closed doors; however, the media hyped up that Carrie and I were coaching my brother and her sister in the ways of a serious relationship, and that we were urging them to marry one another. Although we never discussed those things, the thought had more than just crossed my mind.

I was exceptionally pleased and flattered when the monarchs were quoted in response to a question about their opinion of a relationship between Doug and Emma. Her father said, "Well, if Doug Westerly is as capable, genuine, supportive, and loving as his brother is to my other daughter, I'd be hard put to recommend a better suitor to her."

He was asked if it bothered him that both his daughters were apparently in love with American men (as opposed to men from England). He responded, "We live in a small world. The large differences people used to see when distances were long have all but disappeared. We are neighbors with the world community. So long as they're happy, I am a happy man, and my wife is equally joyful."

I about dropped my eyeteeth at both comments. I'd been led to believe he would be staunchly against another daughter tying into a Yank.

I hoped her parent was sincere and not just politicking, because the way it was looking by the time Carrie and I flew home, was that Emma and Doug would be together for the rest of their lives. They might not wed, but they sure wouldn't be apart too much.

Carrie shifted into high gear at work, as the first two of her hour-long TV specials came together. They addressed climate change, presenting the cases various politicians used for and against, presenting the various attempts at legislation, examining the cost of failure to take action, and then chastising the governments in a dozen leading countries for their lack of action. The two back-to-back specials would be highly controversial, and poke a stick in the eyes of practically every politician in Washington, London, Paris, Beijing, Moscow, Berlin, Rome, and many other cities.

She arrived home one day and announced they were complete, and that they would be aired two and three weeks hence in prime time, plus she had her own byline on the series: Climate Change Crisis, or C-cubed as she called it. The show had been syndicated by NBS; plus BBC and BFM-TV in France had already subscribed, although their airings were slated for a month or more in the future.

Carrie was positively itchy for the two weeks leading up to the Wednesday evening airing of the first special; the second half would follow a week later. She was like an expectant mother feeling the first twinges of labor pains. A huge amount of advanced press had been created by WDC-TV and NBS about the specials. Some even had clips of Carrie interviewing some politician, Al Gore, environmental leader, or noteworthy scientist.

WDC-TV decided to host a viewing party that night at the station, so Marjorie, Jerry, Carrie, and I showed up and joined about forty others, many of whom had been involved in the filming, research, editing, and other production parts for the specials. Many had their spouses or significant others with them.

The station had put on a huge spread of food and ran an open bar for the event. We'd gotten a limousine, so we didn't have to worry about a DUI.

At eight o'clock, the lights in our party room dimmed and the huge screen lit up with a video of Carrie talking about the environment and climate change. As she talked other clips of melting glaciers, mammoth storms and tornadoes, and record droughts, floods, and snowstorms led into the meat of the broadcast.

Carrie blew me away. She was professional, pretty, knew her material flawlessly, conducted good interviews, and carefully led the viewers through the complex logic of her subject and her thesis that government inaction was creating major problems for future generations.

At the end of the hour, everyone in the room applauded everybody else who had worked on the series. A second part would view in the same timeslot a week later, but the case had already been made. The second part would be additional information, and the icing on the cake, so to speak.

Carrie was asked to say a few words. She stood, and thanked everyone, person by person, for his or her hard work and perseverance on the project. After that, the party broke up, and we took our limo home.

The next day, the various media views about the special started to appear. The newspapers started a page one article about the series and the princess, also backing her plea for government action instead of the bickering the two political parties were embroiled in that resulted in inaction.

The social media sites roared with approval, hitting the government even harder than Carrie had. Views from overseas were also appearing since the diligent online surfer could also have watched as we did.

The Washington politicians were strangely silent, a point that didn't surprise any of us since they'd appeared as ineffectual, and even dangerous the way they were behaving and not taking the long-range interest of the country to heart.

Carrie appeared on two daytime talk shows on Thursday. Jerry was escorting her around the premises and being a good bodyguard, since her profile could barely have been higher, plus she'd pissed off a lot of people in power.

Friday, the station was inundated with fan mail. Bags of it addressed to Carrie arrived, and ninety-nine percent of it praised her investigative reporting.

On Sunday, Carrie appeared on Meet the Media, a weekly upscale show where key broadcast and press personnel got interviewed about the hot issues of the time. Carrie's interview on the show took a half-hour, and she was spectacular: articulate, passionate about her cause, and thorough in her castigation of most legislators in most countries. She was able to give dozens of specific examples and cite the anticipated long-term effects -- a list that sounded like it came out of the Old Testament.

If the North American public hadn't been worried before, they should have been all but panicked after the two broadcasts. Anyone living within fifty miles of a coastline or major river, and anyone who had property within thirty feet of mean sea level, was put on notice that they were in deep shit, although Carrie bit her tongue to avoid using that word.

The second week's broadcast built on the first, and kept the accolades and positive feedback coming.

In another TV show that interviewed Carrie, the hostess asked her whether she might run for president.

After an incredulous look, Carrie said, "Ah, errr, no. You have to be a natural-born citizen and be thirty-five to be considered, and I am neither. I will become a citizen eventually; however, I do not have the breadth of experience to be successful at the job."

The hostess just blasted on with other inane questions. We had the VCR on most of the time recording her appearances, so we could keep up with the direction things were taking.

As Carrie got even more famous, Jerry added two more people to our security detail, a man and woman, who played the role of assistants to Carrie, but in fact were usually scouring the environ around her for trouble makers. A few threats appeared on the Internet, and they chased those down too. We had single-person coverage for 24/7, and occasionally double coverage when Carrie did some appearance in the general public.

Carrie still did some shopping and things, but she always had a shadow watching out for her. She told me one day, "At least now I feel some justification for the security detail other than having been born to a particular set of parents."

Jerry had taken to living at the house too, often along with one of the other special agents he'd engaged.

Carrie still liked to drive her Land Rover; however, Jerry insisted that she take a defensive driving course, consequently for three afternoons a week for two months, Carrie went off with him to driving school learning how to ram other cars, do 'J' turns at high speed, and other absolutely crazy maneuvers that would scare other drivers witless. Lest we invite trouble, we kept the news of her driving course private.

Another couple of months went by. Carrie had another special on water quality that probably made half the population decide to boil anything that they drank. We'd come to the WDC-TV studios to watch the premiere of the show with the production crew and Carrie. She was altruistic in giving praise to her 'team,' as she now called it, being sure that everyone got recognition and public praise in front of the big bosses. She obviously didn't feel she needed to step on others to get ahead.

Marjorie was there, and we all enjoyed the show. She too was now hitting her stride doing her own specials, and occasionally anchoring the evening news, once for a solid week. She presented well and several people indicated she was probably next in line for the permanent local anchor desk.

As the party broke up, Marjorie decided to ride with me when we headed home. She was starting a one-week series on high-tech jobs in the beltway area, and wanted my perspective on the market. Finally, she was doing something I could contribute to.

We waved at Carrie as she got in her Land Rover. I saw Jerry getting into his Jeep Grand Cherokee. We led the procession out of the parking lot, and headed for the other side of the Potomac to get on the George Washington Memorial Parkway. We'd whisk out to the beltway, take that north into Maryland, and then head northwest towards out home.

Given the hour, ten-thirty at night, traffic was nearly non-existent. Washington was another city that never slept, but there sure weren't may people doing driving at the late hour.

We lost Carrie and Jerry at a light. We made it through on a yellow, and just kept going onto the Parkway. Just as we got on, I thought I saw her car start through the light.

I focused on the scene behind me in the mirror. "Marge, something's wrong back there. Do you see Jerry's car behind Carrie?"

Marjorie squirmed around in her seat and looked out the back window. She said, "If those are her headlights, she's alone. He seems to be way back at the light."

Suddenly, Marjorie shouted, "Oh, shit. There's another car now trying to force her off the road."

I was a quarter-mile onto the parkway, and Carrie had just started down the ramp I'd been on thirty-seconds earlier. I let up on the accelerator, and pulled to the side to let her catch up.

Carrie didn't only catch up, she passed my slowing vehicle at about ninety miles per hour, followed closely by another vehicle we didn't recognize that seemed intent on ramming her car.

I accelerated too, but from my near dead stop, I would have to go some, to catch the two cars. A third car catapulted past me, probably doing over a hundred.

As I started to near the pair, my cellphone rang. Marjorie picked my phone off the car charger and answered.

"It's Jerry," she said.

I flicked a couple of buttons and he was on the car stereo.

Jerry said, "Carrie's in trouble. I've phoned the police. I assume you're on the GW Parkway?"

"Yes. Two cars are after her in high speed pursuit."

"Try to keep her in sight. There may be a third car involved. One of them shot out two of my tires at the light, before I could respond with my own firepower. I think there are at least four men involved: two in the lead car, one in the next, and one in another. Look hang up and call 911; they're waiting for your call to give locations."

The call ended. Marjorie called 911, and started the dialogue with the dispatcher about Carrie's location. By now we were going about ninety in a fifty-five zone, and we were having trouble negotiating some of the curves on the old parkway.

Up ahead I could see the car behind Carrie make an attempt to ram her back bumper. We knew if he made contact, she could lose control and have a bad crash. Maybe that's what the driver wanted.

Carrie did a little finesse between two other much slower vehicles that put some space between her and her pursuer. The second pursuit car had caught up to the first.

She had a couple of hundred yards lead on them, but then she did something amazing. I saw the taillights on her car come on, and saw the headlights dip hard. She was doing a very hard braking maneuver.

The car started to slew as the speed bled off. The pursuit cars hit their brakes too. A car she'd just past pulled around her and kept on going.

The backend of Carrie's car made a slow sweep of a hundred-eighty degrees, until her car was heading south in the northbound lane. The headlights came up, indicating acceleration. She aimed right for the second pursuit car. He veered into the breakdown lane, and the cars must have touched they were so close.

The first pursuit car tried a similar maneuver; however, he lacked the skill or grace so it was a slower and more awkward turnaround.

We'd slowed almost to a stop. Carrie passed us in the opposite direction into oncoming traffic at about sixty miles an hour. I saw her start to drive in the breakdown lane.

As the first car made to catch with her, I feinted to hit him head-on. He jerked into the high-speed lane, and then swerved, just missing another car, until he too was in the breakdown lane racing away behind me.

Marjorie was giving a narrative of what was going on to the 911 dispatcher.

Instead of turning around, I got in the breakdown lane and started to back-up at a good clip, looking over my shoulder and in my rearview mirror for driving guidance. Cars coming towards us were honking and flashing their lights.

I could see Carrie's car almost out of sight when the pursuer she'd forced off the road passed me into oncoming traffic.

Carrie executed another high-speed J-turn, right in front of the two cars, and then started to hurl back in my direction. I stopped and started to go forward. I could see the flashing lights of a police cruiser heading in our direction a way back on the parkway.

Carrie past me and tooted her horn. I tried to race behind her; and in my rearview mirror I watched the other pursuit cars coming at a high speed.

Marjorie said, "I'm buckled in tight. Hit one of the cars. Take him out."

As the light colored sedan started to pass me, I swerved in front of him. He blasted on the horn, and went to go around my other side. I pulled back in my lane. He swung back into the high-speed lane, made to pass, and I swerved into his right rear quarter panel, trying to hit his back tire. I connected hard.

I must have picked up some of his forward momentum, because our car started to slew back into the right lane of the parkway, even coasting sideways for a couple of hundred feet, before I regained control. I hoped my left-front tire would last.

The car I'd hit spun around, and careened into the guardrail almost head-on. We were probably doing close to seventy or eight miles an hour. I was lucky to still be moving. I heard Marjorie give a description of the perp's car and the nearest mile marker to 911. A second police car shot down a ramp behind me. The first police car appeared to have stopped at the wreck I'd caused.